


Tainted Red Child

by CupcakeOfAwesomeness



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Charlotte Lives AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeOfAwesomeness/pseuds/CupcakeOfAwesomeness
Summary: She hadn't seen anything; sleep was a gift, Patrick decided. He knew she was interested in his work, but he refused to allow her near it. He refused to lose her—tofailher—as he had his wife. Charlotte, though, wants to be just like him.
Relationships: Angela Ruskin Jane/Patrick Jane, Jason Wylie/Charlotte Anne Jane, Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon, Wayne Rigsby/Grace Van Pelt
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	1. Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Charlotte's special shoes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my newest Mentalist fanfiction! Inspired by my latest binge (fifth time watching, eyyy 🤙) and that one episode with Dove Cameron. So, Charlotte lives!!
> 
> Notes:
> 
> None of the chapters are going to be tooooo long, also not sequential! They'll be posted in whatever order inspiration hits. No promises on how often this will be update either. 
> 
> I'm just having fun lol hopefully you enjoy this lil fic 😊

_Charlie._

She liked being called Charlie over Lottie, that was the first thing Charlotte Jane decided after her mother died. Mom had always called her Lottie—now that she was gone, it didn't fit. Like, when her light-up sneakers started squeezing her toes too tightly. 

She had tried to endure it because she loved those shoes—they were pink and sparkly and had hearts on them—until eventually she couldn't even manage to fit her toes in anymore. She was sad to let them go, crying and crying when Dad had to throw them away. He said that she was really crying for another reason, but she didn't know what that was. She just wanted her special shoes. 

When Dad took her to Payless the next day, she had thrown a tantrum through the entire car ride, screaming that she didn't _want_ _new_ shoes, she wanted her _old_ shoes. He looked tired, didn't say much, but nodded and listened. She calmed down, resolving to a quiet, stubborn anger as they trudged through the mall. She crossed her arms and huffed when they sat at the bench, a worker smiling and measuring her feet gently. Every pair that was offered to her wasn't good enough, though. Nothing could compare to her light-up, sparky sneakers. 

That's when Dad found a pair of bright yellow heelys. She didn't give them a chance at first, shaking her head resolutely. But Dad was persistent. He must've known she would love them, because he didn't take no for an answer this time. It was only when he demonstrated how the wheels popped out from the soles that her face lit up excitedly. He helped her try them on and roll in a couple circles gleefully. They walked out of the store happily that day. 

On the car ride home, he casually called her Charlie and she _knew_. It was just like the new shoes. It _fit_ and felt even _better_ than Lottie ever had. 

When her father was taken away—a hospital, she was told, but he wasn't sick, he _told_ _her_ he _wasn't_ sick—she almost went back to Lottie again permanently. She had to live with Uncle Danny. Uncle Danny was _fine_ , of course—he was her _uncle_ , she _loved_ him—but he wasn't _Dad_. She was scared that she was going to lose her dad like how she lost her mom. But Uncle Danny took her to a therapist every week and she got less scared. It took a _long_ time— _six whole months_ —but Dad came back and so did Charlie. 

And, when Dad started working with the nice agents at the CBI and helped catch bad people, she realized Charlie wanted to do that too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this first chapter! I'm posting two chapters right away, so the second one should be out 🙌 hopefully you enjoy this, again, just for fun, but I do love kudos, comments, and bookmarks 🤗💜
> 
> Thanks again! ~Jayce


	2. Tired Red Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Angela dies._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this version of events, Charlie is left unharmed, still sleeping. Here's how Patrick finds his family.

_Tired Red Eyes._

When Patrick Jane truly started to appreciate the gift that was sleep, it was after his wife had been brutally murdered. Not immediately after, mind you, as he stared at her corpse for a solid ten minutes, absorbing the situation through his shock and adrenaline; only after that, did he snap to his senses and stumble into his daughter's bedroom, praying to a god he didn't believe in that she was alive. 

And there she was, slumbering peacefully—completely unawares of what had occurred. 

He collapsed next to her bed, knees giving out as relief surged through his body. His fingers shook as he reached out, brushing her hair tenderly. Still, she slept. He laid on the floor next to her, watching her body move as she breathed softly. Emotions flooded through him; he could barely think, _barely feel_ , anything anymore. The mess that was his mind refused to calm. 

He should've called the police. He _knew_ that. Yet, he couldn't will himself to move. It was obvious who had done this, no one had caught him yet, what was the point? 

Fatigue took over and he shut his eyes. Now, he recognized it. Sleep was a gift. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How I imagine this went: 
> 
> Angela was sleeping, Red John woke her up, threatened to kill Charlotte as well if she woke up, so Angela stayed quiet (probably crying a ton, silently) and was killed, not making a sound or fighting back in an attempt to save her daughter, which worked. So, that's how Charlie slept through it and wasn't murdered. ✌️
> 
> Oh, and Patrick sleeps and then calls the police in the morning, bc he's just so emotionally exhausted. Idk I just couldn't see him calling 911 right away after finding his daughter still alive.


	3. Fireball Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The team meets Charlie._

_Fireball Child._

The first time Teresa Lisbon met Charlotte Jane, she hadn't been expecting to see her. What father brings his daughter tagging along on a quest to search through files about the man who had brutally murdered her mother? But here she was, holding Patrick Jane's hand loosely and gazing around the office with interest. 

At seven-years-old, she was already brighter than all of her classmates, having skipped straight to third grade. She felt old enough to help catch her mother's killer. She told Teresa as much, when her father wasn't listening. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Teresa said gently, covering her shock as best she could, “that's _our_ job.”

“Then I want to be a police officer, too,” Charlotte— _Charlie_ , she had demanded Teresa call her—said decisively. “I want to help.”

“Maybe when you're older,” Teresa said gingerly. She wasn't one to discourage a child's aspiration, however she felt that this was spoken through grim emotions rather than true desires. “For now, we'll handle this.”

That's when Hannigan punched Patrick Jane in the face. 

So, she brought the girl to the break area, sitting her down at a table and providing her with pencils and paper to draw on. It seemed that Mr. Jane was going to be here a while and she didn't want Charlie to either get bored or get exposed to depictions of murder. Charlie didn't seem too pleased to be alone, so Teresa asked Rigsby to sit with her while he went through the less gruesome case files from another department. 

She watched in amusement as Charlie began to pummel Rigsby with questions and he gave her a look that screamed _help! How do I deal with this child?_ Teresa shrugged coyly. 

“That man has money issues,” Charlie piped up suddenly, pointing to the image in the file acutely. 

“What?” Rigsby asked, and Teresa edged closer, curious. “How could you know?”

“His hair is self-cut, dress shirt is cheap, and his rings are fake,” she said pointedly, looking at Rigsby as though he were an idiot. “Obviously wants to appear wealthier than he is.” 

“How can you tell from just this photograph?” Rigsby asked slowly, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to see what she saw. She sighed dramatically. 

“His sideburns are uneven, unprofessionally cut, his shirt is buttoned backwards, meaning it's a woman's dress shirt, probably bought from a thrift store where he couldn't tell the difference, and the gold on his rings is chipped, right there.” She stared Rigsby in the eyes boredly. “Can't afford a haircut, proper shirt, or real rings, but wants to seem like he can. Insecurity, I imagine.”

“Cho!” Teresa called, beckoning the man in question into the room. He stood with crossed arms, awaiting orders. “Swap places with Rigsby, he and I need to fact-check.”

“Yes, boss.” Cho sat across from Charlie. He tapped her papers. “What are you drawing?”

She ignored his question and asked one of her own. “Cho, that's Korean, right?”

Cho nodded. “That's right.”

“Cool! I had a friend at school who was Korean, her name was Se Eun, but then she changed it to Sadie because people were bullying her and teachers didn't take the time to learn to pronounce it, which I thought was stupid,” Charlie rambled, cheerfully. “It's not hard to learn people's names and I think that non-westernized names are cool! Did you change your name or do you still go by your birth name?”

“Birth name,” he said. “Kimball.”

“Kimball... That's a cool name!”

His lips twitched upwards; Teresa was stunned he seemed to be bonding with this kid so much. 

“Can you teach me Korean?”

“Sure. Let's start with hello...”

Teresa had gone to her office at this point, processing what had just occurred. Within moments of meeting, this little girl had managed to leave a huge impression on each of them, full of awe. She was remarkable, intelligent beyond her years, with a keen eye and incredible perception. It was no wonder she believed she could help catch her mother's murderer. 

Teresa didn't know it then, but she would be meeting Charlie many more times after this day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to dictionary.com, when you refer to someone as a fireball, they are _an exceptionally energetic or ambitious person_ , which I feel applies to Charlie both ways—children are energetic in general, and she is obviously ambitious. You can probably tell at this point, but I'm trying to give every chapter a "red" title, much like the episodes of the show.


	4. Red Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Patrick fled the country._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, when Patrick flees after killing Red John, he wouldn't be able to take Charlie with him, so I figured she would have to stay with someone, and I liked the idea of this bonding 😌✨

_Red Aftermath._

He hadn't taken her with him. How could he? He fled to another country after killing a serial killer with his bare hands. Charlie didn't hold it against him—well, not entirely. She couldn't help being a little bit angry; her dad could've just taken him into custody, or turned himself in, but no, he left the country with only five sentences left behind for her. 

_Dearest Charlotte,_

_I'm sorry. I did this for your mother, for you, for me—for everyone Red John has hurt. I don't want you to get wrapped up in this any more than you already are. I'll see you again._

_I love you._

She was supposed to get stuck with Uncle Danny, but he was in prison, after finally being exposed as a con man. That's how she found herself in the temporary care of Teresa Lisbon. 

After knowing Teresa for just under eight years, she loved the woman like family already, but she had never expected to be under her guardianship. At least, not without her father there too. It was no secret that they had some more-than-friendly feelings towards each other, though neither would admit it. Of course, now Dad was gone and Teresa was here. 

At first, Teresa was apprehensive—she knew nothing about raising a child, after all—but Charlie was already fourteen, almost fifteen, self-sufficient enough that Teresa quickly calmed down and got used to having another girl in her apartment. She kept telling Charlie that her father would be back soon, he just needed time. Time, that's the mantra she would give the teen, nearly every day, especially after the letters started to arrive. 

Almost a month after he disappeared, a letter was delivered, postmarked from Venezuela; it was addressed to them both, signed _Patrick Jane_. They each knew his handwriting, his grammar, his cadence—it was him. He confessed how he missed them both, how he loved them, how he had no regrets about killing Red John. No mention of when he was coming back. They looked at each other, feeling bittersweet and not quite satisfied. The letters kept coming, though. 

Going to high school as if everything were normal felt sickening. Everyone _knew_ , after all; it wasn't a private case. The way they stared at her as she slunk down the halls, as she scribbled notes and doodles in class, as she ate lunch alone on the steps—what could be more interesting than watching the orphan whose father murdered a man that was supposedly the same serial killer who had murdered her mother? She was a living reality show. 

Friends were never easy to come by for Charlie. All her life she had been the daughter of a psychic, or the daughter of a serial killer's victim, or the daughter of the irritating CBI consultant—no one knew her as _Charlie_ , just someone's daughter. Now, after all the stunts her father had pulled over the years, she couldn't escape the name Jane. She even contemplated taking Teresa's surname, after nearly a year of her father being gone. Teresa refused, saying she would regret it once he returned. Charlie wasn't certain, still, she couldn't make any legal changes without her guardian's consent, so she remained Charlotte Jane. 

Annie would visit sometimes, when she wasn't out searching for bail-jumpers with her dad. That was always nice. She was a friend, Charlie thought, but not by anyone's first choice. Annie wasn't a commitment sort of person, Charlie didn't want a friend who just felt _obligated_ to her because she was living under her aunt's roof—however, they did get along, finding solace in each other's nonjudgmental presences, and sent each other a lot of memes. Besides Annie though, Charlie didn't talk to anyone else her age. 

Apart from Teresa, she often found herself around Wayne and Grace, especially after they had their daughter, Maddy. Charlie was happy to be their babysitter of choice for Maddy (and Ben, when he was with them as opposed to Sarah). She would still hang around with them when she wasn't babysitting, as well, but mainly she was there when they needed an extra set of hands to assist with the whole parenting thing. She didn't mind; she definitely inherited her father's love of children. 

Cho, she saw less. She used to see him more, but eventually, he went off the radar. Teresa told her not to worry about it, he could handle himself. She knew that, still, she really liked Cho. They had such a fun rapport—he made her laugh, she made him smile—and he was secretly her favourite of her pseudo aunts and uncles from their CBI days. She hoped he would come back to her life one day, as opposed to her father.

She had long since given up on seeing him again. The letters were constant, yet he never once expressed a timeline for his return. She suspected he felt guilty—ashamed of leaving his daughter alone, _as he should be_ —and she had gotten tired of giving herself seemingly false hope. He had _left_. She was at peace with that now. 

Then, one day, the FBI came to see Teresa and a few days later, she received news that Patrick Jane was back on American soil.

 _Two years_. 

_Two. Whole. Years_. 

That was how long it took before Patrick Jane set foot in America again. Even then, he had to be _persuaded_. Charlie couldn't say she wasn't incensed. He wouldn't return for his _own daughter_. The _last_ family he had left. No, it took the _FBI_ to get him back. 

She didn't want to see him. Not anymore. For months, she had been longing for him to return. Now? She couldn't care less. She had already been abandoned by this man. What sort of father does that? 

“I want to stay with Teresa,” she told him, when she was finally forced to see him, after he and Teresa joined the FBI. He nodded, sorrow in his eyes, yet understanding as well. She continued, “I still love you—you're my _dad_ —but you _left me_. For _two years_. And it took the _FBI_ to bring you back. Not me.” She sighed, looking down to her feet. “One day, maybe, I'll live with you again. But, I need time.”

He nodded again, gently, tenderly, kissing her head. “I love you, Charlie. I always will. Live with Teresa as long as you want, as long as she allows you.”

“I love you too. Thank you for understanding.”

She saw him still, nearly every day, she saw him. It was _Teresa_ , though, she came home to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might end up shipping Charlie with Wylie bc based on my research (aka Wikipedia-ing his age) he would've been 19/20 when he was introduced (at least, the actor, Joe Adler, would've been around that age, and it depends on when the episodes were filmed before they aired and blah) and Charlie's gonna be about 17/18 when she meets him aND WE JUST FINISHED REWATCHING THE SHOW I'M REMINDED OF HOW BIG A CRUSH _I_ HAVE ON WYLIE SO UM YEAH


	5. Blood Painted Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They find Emma's body._

_Blood Painted Nails._

Patrick felt himself return to that room, that moment that he came across Angela's body. The realization which came crashing upon him in waves, alongside the abject horror of seeing his wife's body slain beneath the red smiley face. He had seen the face first—he hadn't dared look down for a moment, knowing all too well what had occurred, what tragedy he had brought upon himself. The pain he had subjected himself to. Then, he looked. 

Her eyes stared directly into his, cold and lifeless, searching for his soul, if one did indeed exist. Blood pooled from the deep gashes in her neck, skin ripped apart by the monster he had insulted. Red splotches covered her clothes, hair, flesh—body marred by blood, a masterpiece ruined. But then, there were her toes. 

Delicate, purposeful drops of blood on each nail, a serial killer's preferred polish. It was a mark, he realized, to show that his wife was special. This wasn't any ordinary killing. Red John had gone out of his way to murder Angela Jane to destroy her husband's life. 

That's when he had stopped staring and ran to find his daughter had been spared. 

Now, in the real world, the present day, Emma Plaskett had the same painted toenails. A sign—Red John wanted Patrick on this case. Emma was somehow special as well. He turned to face Teresa and she understood. Besides the style of killing and the toes, though, there were no other of His signs. But it was Red John; it had to be. 

The plane overhead confirmed what he already knew. 

Charlie was only ten, but she was _smart_ —Patrick knew he was at fault for that—and she _knew_ something was different with this case. The team would _never_ expose her to images of their investigations, no matter how many times she pestered to help them, however, she loved to sit in their office, staring up at the evidence board, reading through everything they had discovered. 

As soon as she saw the note about the toes, she _knew_. She knew why everyone was acting so weird, she knew why they were so tense, why they were so _scared_. It was him; he was back.

And he had painted another set of toes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not super Charlie centric but I like this one 😌✨


	6. Wilted Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Charlie confides in Grace._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy with a couple Be More Chill fics lol but this fic is still happening 😌✨

_Wilted Rose._

Grace could tell something was off from the moment Charlie stepped into the office. The girl seemed subdued; she trudged through the bullpen and flopped onto the couch, mouth curved into a perpetual frown. Grace wasn't one to pry into the tween's life, so she stayed quiet. Charlie lay slumped there for ten minutes, breathing and contemplating. Grace continued digging through the internet history of the victim, Charlie's presence almost forgotten, until:

“Hey, Grace?”

“Yeah?” She turned to face the blonde, who was fiddling with the straps of her backpack uncomfortably. Grace swiveled her chair around to give the child her full attention. “What's up, Charlie?”

“How do you deal with having a crush that's not reciprocated?”

Definitely not the question Grace had been expecting. She gaped for a moment, rather akin to a goldfish. Finally, “You have a crush on someone at your school...?”

Charlie shushed her quickly, cheeks reddening. 

“Sorry,” Grace said with a playful grin, then lowered her voice, kindly, “Want to talk about it?”

Charlie nodded hesitantly. “Thanks, Grace.” She leaned forward, producing a dying rose from her bag. “We do this stupid Valentine's Day thing, where you buy roses and give them to people—your friends, your crush, your significant other, et cetera. So, there's this _really_ cute boy in my class, Emerson Zheng, and I thought, _hey, why not get him a rose? That's what people do!_ But...” She trailed off and Grace could see where this story was heading. “When he found out it was from me, he threw it in my face and said that no one would ever like a freak like me.”

“Oh, Charlie,” Grace said softly, “you're _not_ a freak.”

“ _I_ know that,” Charlie said, though she was wiping tears from her eyes roughly. “It just hurts that no one else does. Like, I'm _smart_ —I did an IQ test last year and scored 140—and _obviously_ I'm fucked up—my mom was _murdered_ , my dad _solves_ murders, and my closest friends are a bunch of _homicide detectives_!—but I still want a normal life, y'know?”

“ _Everyone's_ a little fucked up,” Grace pointed out. “I mean, look at me: my past two boyfriends ended up being homicidal psychopaths.” She chuckled, despite herself. It wasn't _funny_ , per se, just somehow laughable. “But you _do_ deserve a normal life, Charlie, you're right.”

“Sometimes, I'm tempted to act less intelligent than I am, so people will like me more—but I've _seen_ Mean Girls, I know that never ends well.” Grace laughed at the joke and Charlie added, “I just wish feelings weren't so annoying.”

“I agree,” Grace said, nodding, “Emotions are difficult. But, I can guarantee you that everything will get better.”

“I guess...”

“Anytime you want to talk, I'm here. You know that, Charlie?” 

“Thanks, Grace; you're the best.”

“I try,” Grace grinned, plucking the flower from the girl's hand and tucking it into her blonde locks instead. “Now, I'm sure you have homework.”

Charlie groaned; a single rose petal fell to the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Grace is Charlie's big sister figure 😄💜 their dynamic I've created makes me very happy 😌✨


	7. Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Grace's psychotic boyfriend #1._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very short 🤷 sorry

_Seeing Red._

When Charlie walked into the bullpen and saw Grace's boyfriend pointing a gun to Grace over her father's back, she did the first thing she could think of: 

“What the _hell_?”

She was staring down the barrel of his gun in moments; Dad and Grace stood stock still. The nine-year-old stayed remarkably calm—at least, outwardly—and stared right back, as if her eyes were weapons of her own. 

“Dan,” Grace called out, her voice shaking, “she's just a kid. Leave her out of this.”

“ _I_ was just a kid too, wasn't I?” he spat back, grabbing Charlie roughly by the arm, forcing her in front of him, gun to her back. “We're going for a walk.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil drabble 😌✨ nothing else about this episode would really change, they would still do the whole escape and stuff and it'd be all good, Charlie would just be there as well lol


	8. Blushing Cheeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Wylie meets Charlie._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im shipping them. You can't stop me 👀

_ Blushing Cheeks. _

She was 17 when she met him. She didn't want to be near her father—still dealing with the emotions of his abandonment—so she sat in the break room alone. When he came in, his face went red and he stuttered out apologies. 

“It's fine,” she said, lopsided smile gracing her face. “Wanna sit? Or are you busy?”

“I can sit,” he said, after a moment of thought. He gingerly sat across from her, watching her fingers drumming the table. “Um, you're Jane's daughter, right? Charlotte?”

“Charlie,” she corrected, expression bittering at his name. “I live with Teresa now, though.”

“Cool! Cool, uh, she's nice.” There was a stretch of silence before his hand suddenly jutted out towards her, blush growing. “I'm Jason! Wylie! Jason Wylie, heh...”

She smiled, shaking his hand lightly. “Nice to meet you, Jason.”

“Sorry, I'm kinda new,” he said quietly. 

“No need to apologize for anything.”

He smiled at her softly. “Thanks, um, Charlie.”

His eyes were so full of joy and genuine innocence—butterflies erupted in her stomach. This would be the start of a beautiful friendship. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im in love with Wylie asdsfggsghj 😭💜


End file.
